90 Days
90 days. Three months without you. These month milestones have been tough. It’s like my body knows today is going to be a hard day. My heart and chest feel heavy and the tears seem to flow even without my awareness. As I was trying to pick a photo to share, I realized we didn’t take enough photos together. I have a lot of photos of Clayton and the boys and a few of just him but not many of just us. Looking through photos hasn’t been a healing process for me yet. It’s incredibly painful to look at photos. I wish it wasn’t. I am grateful for friends who have checked in on me today. For being thoughtful enough to think of me during the end of the month. It truly means more than I can express. As I reflect on the past 90 days, I miss taking care of you. For the past two years I’ve driven us to thousands of doctor appointments, argued with insurance and pharmacies week after week, helped you in and out of the bath tub multiple times a day, walked the block with you and spent more days than I can count in hospital rooms with you. These intimate moments we shared with the focus and hope of healing is one of the most powerful connections I have been privileged to experience. I told a friend recently that we may not have gotten to grow old together but I got to grow old with him. I rejoice that he is dancing in heaven with his fully healed navy seal physique and I’m one day closer to seeing him again. Keep celebrating friends, take more pictures, enjoy the mundane, embrace the hard moments with gratitude and check in on your friends. 💕